Hot Mess/Comfortable

It's weird, going back so far in time and maturity to write my first:girl series. It's hard to get back into that head space where I was so young, awkward, naive, unsure, uneducated. It's hard not to cringe at the moments when I didn't know what it meant to be "butch" or what the Stonewall Riots were. I've had to delve into old journals to remember what I was thinking during that time, even though some exchanges are burned so clearly into my memory. Proof reading my first:girl series was like watching a video tape of someone else drowning. I want to swim out and help me, but I know I can't. I'm not there anymore. I had to learn to sink or swim on my own.

Even looking back on my first posts here, not nearly as far back as my love story, I was all over the place. I was a big, hot, lesbian mess, trying to fit myself into any box I could find. I'm so glad I found these beautiful safe spaces which helped me grow. Places like Sugarbutch, CCL, Dorothy Surrenders, and Alphafemme, with real authors, honest people who shared their experiences and their lives with me so that I might grow and learn. I can't thank them enough, especially Sinclair over at Sugarbutch, for the impact they've had on making me feel safe and like I wasn't alone on this journey.

But I have become someone extraordinarily different from who I was back then. I am confident, self-assured. I know what I need from a relationship and how to get it. I know how to give love, how to accept it, and how to walk away when I'm not going to get it. I am a sane, competent individual who understands different types of relationships, differing needs and wants and paradigms. I am someone who can stand my ground and hold my own beliefs without needing to blind myself to the opinions of those around me. I am no longer spectrum banging, but comfortable in the person I've settled into. That's not to say I don't shake things up occasionally, but everything is essentially me. I can also still be a hot mess when I'm running late for work and haven't done laundry or gone to the market and forget to comb my hair when I get out of the shower and look like Jane Porter (this is a chance for you to show me that you read).

I hope that you, wherever you are on your journey, in the closet or out for years, can come upon this feeling. That someday, you can stop chasing down and looking for who you really are, because you are comfortable in yourself. All that running is exhausting, and knowing the basics of who you are and what you want is really enjoyable.

Underthings

When I first started this blog, it was a little bit racy, a little bit sexy, a little bit about discovering and being discovered. If you've been with me for a while, you'll remember when I used to give myself "body homework" learning to get comfortable with myself and my body (and trying to get over past insecurities). That was put on pause for a long time as I got comfortable with my mental self, with my identity, my sexuality, my gender, my emotions. Everything stabilized, and I'm very grateful for that.

Today I didn't have any underwear. Literally, none. I practically have no clean clothes left. My laundry pile is three feet high and I have no time to do it. I suppose I did this morning, but I quickly hemmed up a sweater dress instead and then realized later that my undergarment drawer was empty. Oops. So I hopped out of the shower and decided "screw it, who needs panties everyday? People do it all the time!"

Note: I cannot text people when I'm in the bath for fear that they will somehow realize that I'm naked while I'm texting them. Okay? You get this? So I left the house and bumped into my neighbor; super nice, 50s, working class. She starts talking to me about this and that and her daughter and all I can think about is how awkward it is that I'm NOT WEARING UNDERWEAR and SOMEHOW SHE MUST KNOW. Except she couldn't, because normal people don't have x-ray vision, but still. It was so awkward and I couldn't follow the conversation at all.

Then, I was at work with this pretty girl named Cindy; she's around my age, really nice and her fiance is pretty awesome. She leaned in to brush a stray eyelash from under my eye behind my glasses, and she was so slow and gentle. I closed my eyes so she didn't poke me in the eyeball, and there it was, that strange, nagging feeling and an oncoming blush because all I could think about was that I wasn't wearing any underthings.

Maybe I could get used to it, in time. Maybe people do it all the time because they like this constant reminder, this heightened feeling. Maybe they like the idea that people might find out. I don't know. The heightened feeling wasn't all bad. It's just...it was the everyday situations with everyday people that made it so awkward. If I were on a date it might've been different, but I was at work.

If I were to try it again, It probably wouldn't be with a sweater dress, and it definitely won't be tomorrow. Here's to clean laundry!

Note: Still updating the first:girl series over at tabbyqt.wordpress.com Check it out to see how I fell in love for the first time and stumbled out of the closet.

Tuesday Tunes

So, I was hemming my sweater this morning (I know, you guys) and of course needed some music to sew by. So here are some Tuesday Tunes maybe you haven't been introduced to but should be.

No Doubt's new CD "Push and Shove"
This is classic, feel good No Doubt, sounding very much like Tragic Kingdom, so I was super excited. And um, Gwen, the baby thing done you good.


 Mumford and Sons- I Will Wait
I have to sing this song every time it comes on in the car. I haven't sat down and picked apart the lyrics but it sounds sweet, and I want to learn the banjo so I can play stuff like this.


And, of course, Rise Against, who I've talked about before and are one of my favorite bands. I love the anti-bullying message they were going for. If you watch it all the way through it doesn't end on a downer note.


Just to fill you with happiness, who remembers this gem from Team Gina?

Sundays

Sometimes I wish I had a cat, just because I think I would feel guiltier if it stared at me while I ate my piece of leftover pumpkin pie with whipped cream. Because I don't have any pets, I was left to eat my pie in peace. Curse you non-existent cat!

Tomorrow begins the cycle of the two jobs again, and it's going to be crazier than ever. The holiday season is beefing up my hours (and my paycheck) but the juggling I'm required to do to get it all done is going to turn me into an acrobat. Maybe I can audition for Cirque du Soleil in January and quit this whole two jobs thing. I'm kidding.

Favorite part about Sundays: Donuts!! Fresh donuts! Secret tip: If you're going to buy donuts, always buy them on a Sunday, because unless you have really bad taste in donuts, they always run out on Saturday which means you a guaranteed not to get a day-old donut on Sunday. You're welcome.

Other favorite part about Sundays: Really gay movies on Netflix. Occasionally I'll get a few hours on a weekend and I like to gay it up, whether I'm fixated on Once Upon a Time, reading a new book, knocking down my Netflix instant queue, or swooning over hot ladies gracing the television screen.

Speaking of gay, but also not, I want to see the new Les Mis movie so badly! Every time I see/hear/read more about it my musical theater degree wrapped heart thumps louder and I feel so ashamed I was not a part of it. I mean, a piano in my ear as I sing on camera? Who came up with that and why didn't we do it ten years ago so we could've avoided the disaster that was Mamma Mia? Love you guys, really. Who else wants to see Les Mis?

Carding

I love seeing the fam and old friends from high school and college years, going out for drinks, gambling, pool, bowling, and all that fun stuff. What's not fun, and I'm not sure if I've talked about this here before or not, is how short and sweet I am. I have a seriously sweet face, and it gets me carded all the time. I went out a few weeks ago with friends and the bar came up to my collar bone. I felt like a six year old. When I requested a Shirley Temple because I had to drive a long, curvy, country road home, the bartender actually said "Thank God."

I get carded when I want to buy lottery tickets, I've been pulled off casino floors and gotten my hand stamped to enter (did you even know they did that at casinos because they do), I've had to pull out credit cards to prove my ID isn't fake. I'd like to say it's flattering. What girl in her mid-twenties wants people to think she's forty? But seriously, yo, stop thinking I'm under 18. It's not cool.

I've learned certain things over the years: when I wear my hair in a braid, it takes off 2 years, add glasses and it knocks off another 2 or 3, pair it with skinny jeans and some converse and I'm a high school kid. But even busting out the boobs and throwing on high heels doesn't seem to help with the carding dilemma. What else can I do? Paint my face in clown makeup?

Tonight was fun, nonetheless. I had a good time catching up with people I've missed. It's always a little awkward around high school friends because they knew me as a completely different person. They knew "pre-gay, baby wanting, Mormon marrying, Tabby" and don't know what to do with the "out, single, comfortable, happy with her life and her sexuality so I don't-need-to-discuss-it-every-second Tabby."

Whenever my sexuality comes up in conversation, people think it's okay to ask for details about my sex life. "Do you do this? Is scissoring a real thing? I've always wanted to have sex with another girl but I don't want to taste it." I don't find out somebody's straight and say "Hey, do you like the taste of his sperm and let him do crazy shit like sign you up for gangbangs?" No, I don't, because I have manners. I'm going off on a tangent. I promise I'll do a whole other post on that topic. For now I'm just trying to deal with the carding sitch.

Also, I've been updating the first:girl series, so if you haven't signed up, email me or leave me a comment with your email and I'll send you the password.

Morning After

Leftover yams: breakfast of champions

After the extended family left the parental house last night, the thing attacked. The thing that my head does when it thinks I'm hitting the bottom of the pool again. I took my medication right away, plus a painkiller, but it didn't seem to have any effect. So, I added to that an Advil pm and knocked myself out for a while. Good news, my head stopped hurting while I was effectively passed out.

Bad news: I woke up at 11 this morning with someone shrilly screeching my name. I ran out of my room, groggy and confused. It was my grandmother, never known for her subtlety. My mom was running around the house like a crazy person, trying to get something to the post office before it closed at noon.

"Do you want to go to lunch with us?" she asked, referring to herself and my aunt standing beside her. I stood numbly, not understanding the situation. Hadn't they all just left?

"You just woke her up and she just went throught that thing last night where I end up having to take her to the hospital," my mom explained.

"Oh, well did you go to the hospital?" she asked.

"No, she took her seizure/migraine meds and painkillers." My aunt has serious epilepsy and as soon as seizure meds were mentioned she was all up on my side. My grandmother, however, was a little slower.

"Well, she can get dressed quickly," she said, eying my pajama clad state.

"Sometimes those meds make you feel sick, mom, she probably doesn't want to eat," my aunt jumped in.

"I don't, I really don't," my head still hurt a bit and I wasn't feeling well, but I had just been very rudely awoken so it was to be expected.

They hung around the house for an hour, bothering my mother and trying unsuccessfully to be helpful when really my mom just wanted them to go away so she could mail her package and I just wanted piece and quiet. Finally I took two advil and braced myself to go down and face them, when they left. So instead, I grabbed some leftover yams with marshmallows and am enjoying a nice, quiet, leftover lunch :)

Happy Thanksgiving

We're all lounging in the unique jelly-legged afterglow of the Thanksgiving feast. As I type this, I'm lounging on the couch with two nieces who are falling into a food coma and a brother-in-law with whom I'm discussing the game, another niece eagerly running into the wilderness, three boys cleaning up the table, one playing video games and another gnawing on leftover sweet potatoes.

Redskins vs Cowboys is on the television and the women are talking in the kitchen. The lights are low and the keyboard of my laptop glows. It's my favorite moment of Thanksgiving. The moment when the dinner conversation has faded and everyone is drifting into their own little niches. It's comfortable, warm, friendly. Well, when you ignore all the ObamaCare hatred going on in the kitchen.

I'm so grateful to spend this time with my family. So grateful for all the food that filled our table, for the smiles on everyone's faces and for the dog licking up everything the kids dropped under their feet. I'm grateful that we all disagree on everything but still manage to get along. We're all family and we enjoy each other. I'm grateful for the homemade cider that smells like our childhoods and old memories of my grandparent's flower shop. I'm grateful for the three tables we strung together in the garage so that no one would be separated from the main conversation.

I'm grateful for the phone call from Ladybug because I miss him terribly and am glad to know that he's safe and sound. And most importantly, I'm grateful for the pumpkin chiffon pie that my sister's children made because it was absolutely delicious. And soon I will be grateful for the nap I'm going to take :)

Happy Thanksgiving!

Day 30 Mirrors

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror

Not a happy one. Sorry.

Babe,

What the hell are you doing? You're spilling out you're whole life into a computer screen and hoping to find what from it? Redemption? Realization? Friends? Love? Community? You have two jobs. You spend all your time taking care of other people, making sure others are safe, comforted, pushed to succeed. What the hell are you doing about yourself?

When was the last time you went on a date? When was the last time you stopped dreaming about great girls and went out to find one you connect with? You're lonely, idiot. You're throwing words into a fiber optic stream to connect with people you share some common ground with, but it doesn't make up for the fact that you're best friend moved away and the redhead is no longer in the picture.

How often do you look at me and tell me that we're not going to do this anymore? That we're going to live the life we want? That we're going to move away and spend our nights in bars with live bands and learn new music and new instruments and go to art galleries and lounge in the grass and fallen leaves listening to the rain with a cup of hot chocolate and maybe perform again? That we're going to work one job with actual hours where you punch a time clock and know your schedule weeks in advance? How often have we said we're going to get the hell out of California?

And we're talking about this again, now, knowing that it's not going to happen soon. This pep talk is doing nothing. Tomorrow you'll see the family and take care of everyone and everything and hear your sister talk about her due date and of course you'll need to be there to help with the other kids and there are so many things which need your attention so you'll stay here, trapped, for who knows how long.

You rescue everyone but yourself. I know you won't do it, but I wish you would.

-30 Day Challenge Complete-

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving for me and you! As a special Thanksgiving thing-a-ma-bob I'm going to take off the passwords for my first:girl series- falling in love and coming out- over on wordpress.com starting at noon pst today until noon Thanksgiving Day. I think. If I don't chicken out. Probably best to read it sooner than later. 
Update 11/22/2012 12:00pm: Posts 2-5 are now password protected. DM, leave a comment or email me at tabbyqt@hotmail.com to sign up for the password. 
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

I haven't had much time to think about Thanksgiving, but I've got lots of family coming together and it should be a good time all around. We all have our assigned parts: Grandma is cooking the turkey, my sister's brood of children love making the pumpkin chiffon pie, so there will be tons of those, as well as a veggie tray, which leaves me to cook....just about everything else. My mom is no help since she's busy and not really a great cook, and my aunt is driving quite a ways to be with us all, so no help there.

Thanksgiving checklist for tomorrow:

Buy autumn themed tablecloths for outside tables.

Pick up "1st Birthday" baby cake for my nephew and cupcakes for the other kids. Wrap birthday present.

Set up at the parental house. Seating in the garage and buffet table in the house. Also, clean out the sink trap upstairs that Mom has been complaining about for weeks. Hook up TV in garage for football game.

Cook yams and hot dip first, start homemade apple cider in crock pot. Then green beans and bacon, and finish with the other side dishes.

Finish table set up, breathe.

Change into something Thanksgiving appropriate. 

Have fun with the family :)

Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!

Day 29 Love/Fear

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but are too afraid to

First post from the new computer! Can I get a cheer?

Love and fear coincide more often than you might think. I'm afraid to disappoint my friends, my colleagues, my boss, my family, my girlfriends. I like when people like me, so much that you might call it a fatal flaw. So, when people set me on a pedestal, I try very hard to stay up there instead of letting myself tumble down.

 I have so many sides to my personality, like everyone does, but most only see two or three. I suppose that by reading my blog you see more of me. You see when I get pissed and want to fight, the moments where I break down and want to cry, my huge ego and my complete insecurities, my gangster moments, and my need to fix the world. You see how I want to believe there is good in everyone, how little I guard myself against people, and yet how I constantly guard myself by not letting anyone in.

I suppose I tell everything to you, like I would a diary, considering you're almost as quiet. I don't mind the lurking readers - I know what it's like to read and connect and feel like you're not alone and someone else is going through all this crap. It's why I started a blog in the first place. It's just interesting that you all across the interwebs, who have never met me, probably know me better than my best friends. In a way, that's horribly sad, but in another way, I guess it's to be expected.

Goodbyes

I did the unthinkable and spoke the words of death. You know the ones I mean, when you bring up in casual conversation, "I think I'm going to have to get a new computer soon." As soon as you say them, your computer knows you've been thinking thoughts of death and recycling and replacing with new, juicy, i7 processors and it gives up its feeble, little life because all hope is lost.

I've had this laptop for nearly six years. Not too bad, actually, and I wouldn't complain except that my CD drive has become unresponsive and it no longer registers that it has a battery, which means I'm outlet-bound. Also I've used up my whole 120 GB hard drive (yeah, you heard that right) and would like to upgrade that, but I was in no hurry! I could have held out weeks or months, or maybe even a year!

But then I uttered the words of death, and now my lovely Dana refuses to recognize my iPhone. I don't think so, babe. Music is my life, and if you can't update my playlists, you and I can't play together anymore. Thanks for all the memories, but tonight is our last night together.

Any recommendations on laptops you love? Nothing fancy, just standard - fast with a solid keyboard (I type a lot).

Day 28 Changes

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 28 — Someone that changed your life

My fifth grade teacher was a bitch. She made me hate school and I started flunking out and not wanting to do my homework. I was a pretty great student before she came along, so she definitely changed my life. I could be a lawyer or a marine biologist, or a zoologist. Or a cop - I think I'd like to be a cop.

My high school drama teacher changed my life. He gave me a therapeutic outlet when I needed one, he got me into theater, which got me into college, he was the only person who noticed when my anorexia was getting out of control. He founded the GSA club at my school and convinced me that I should join, even before I knew I was gay, though I was a huge gay rights activist at 14.

He grounded me, gave me balance, gave me a safe space to scream and cry when my world was crashing down and then taught me how to rebuild. He could turn a drama class into a playground for two year olds, or send us drifting high above the earth like astral projection. There were no limits as to what our bodies were capable of with him. After college, he gave me a reference for a steady job. He looks out for me, he laughs with me, he tells me to cut the crap when I'm holding myself back. He's everything a teacher is supposed to be.

Family Love/Hate

I love my family. I write about them a lot. I have fond memories of them and enjoy spending time with them. But sometimes I just want to smack them. Some of my family is desert redneck, and that's okay. They're good people, funny, know how to have a good time with a piece of plywood, some rope, and an ATV, and can make one hell of a mudslide (the drink). But, they also say some things I just can't handle - it comes with the territory.

My mom's cousin is one of those people who says a lot of things I disagree with. She's had it rough, fighting cancer and then later her daughter was born with Cystic Fibrosis. C was pretty cool - I have a lot of her art. She was fascinated with death and dying, big on the punk scene and Tim Burton movies. But she didn't make it past 16, and that was hard on her mom - on the whole family. After C died, my mom's cousin took a trip to Israel with her other daughter.

So here's the post I saw on Facebook today: The most amazing, spiritual & emotional 10 days of my life were spent in Israel. Hanging out in Downtown old Jerusalem. Being baptized in the Jordan. Actually touching the pavement where they forced Jesus to walk with his cross. The saddest pictures are of Ron and I on the beach in tel aviv, which is now empty because of the bombing. And lastly the empty tomb. Please pray for Israel and the Jewish people, "CHRISTIANS STAND BEHIND ISRAEL"

Blah, blah, blah, (Jesus didn't walk on pavement) blah, blah - "Christians stand behind Israel."  38 likes. I'm sorry, what? I'm not Christian, but I was raised Catholic so I should have a pretty fair idea of what this means and why people are getting behind it. But aren't Christians all for brokering peace? Didn't Jesus say he who is without sin, cast the first stone? Israel is bombing the hell out of Gaza and Hamas is trying like crazy to send out rockets, but their attempts are feeble in comparison. 

So what I'm hearing is that she's all for a religious and territorial war that she has no business being a part of or cheering for. If you want to pray for something, pray for peace, pray for resolution. Pray for both sides and the lives that have been lost in the names of gods which are all ultimately the same.

If you haven't read the Gazan Youth Manifesto for Change, read it now. It's halfway down the page, marked in bold with Manifesto.

Also, if you're interested, this is a NYT article focusing on the three generations of a family living in Gaza that were killed during an Israeli airstrike, as well as the emotional climate of the area right now.

Day 27 Hannah

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day

These are getting so hard! Maybe it's because I slammed my head into a slab of concrete when I was a teenager, or maybe I've always been this way, but I don't have the best memory. I can remember every dream I've had since I was 8 with one trigger word, but people, places, events? Holy mother of Cheezits, how am I supposed to remember everybody I've met for one day?

I did go to see a Tegan and Sara concert a few years ago, and a friend let me stay with him and his grandmother. Her name was Hannah, she had been born in Scotland and was in her 80s. I brought her a pot of tulips as a hostess gift, pretty, yellow and capable of being planted outside just as easily as thrown out - rather than cut flowers, which die and have to be thrown away in a few days time.

She loved me. I barely saw her that night before the concert, but was up early the next morning and we talked for hours. She talked about what it was like to live in Scotland before they grew wheat, so she was forced to eat porridge as a girl and abhorred the stuff now. She cherished soft bread and refined flour.

She talked about what it was like to move with her husband to San Francisco in the 60s, watching the city bloom as her husband checked phone lines and she raised the children and learned to paint. She slipped in and out of time, weaving her tale with her Scottish brogue never diminished. She talked about how she'd love to paint the tulips, regal and strong and unbending, and how I seemed to understand her more than her own daughter, who brought flower arrangements spilling over with bushy leaves and baby's breath. She connected with me. And even if I never see her again, it was a few hours where she felt like she could tell her story to someone who cared, who would understand, and I loved being a part of that.

Musical Expression

I thrive on confrontation, but only with people I see often and know well. People who meet me tend to come away from our interaction thinking that I’m sweet, quiet, agreeable, and kind. I’m a shoo-in with families and old people. When I was 14, I dated a very Jewish boy whose overprotective mother didn’t want to meet me. One lunch later and she wanted us to get married and have tons of cashew babies.

I like when people like me (kill them with kindness), which is why I tend to present myself as vague and agreeable upon first meeting. It's why I don't tell people I'm gay right away. My point here? People are shocked when they find out that the sweet, quiet girl loves to listen to rock music. I like all sorts, but I stumbled onto rock a few years ago and was so struck by the “I'm going to say what I want to say and I don't care if you like it or not” attitude. Lately I've been listening to more and more rock, and maybe it's because I'm clamming up so much in daily life.

We’ll take Aranda’s Satisfied for example; this guy is talking about his bitchy ex and the main lyric is “I never wanna see you smile, and I never wanna see you satisfied. Are you satisfied?” I could never say this. I thought something like this for 30 seconds before I took it back because I know Karma would strike me down, and because generally I want people to be happy. But for a band to lay it all out there - that takes guts.

Rise Against has been stuck in my head for weeks on repeat, and if you've never heard of them, you should take a listen because they're very catchy. Savior just makes me want to dance and sing and create a mosh pit in my shower. Except that I don't really want a mosh pit in my shower and I don't want to be naked and have strangers slamming their bodies into me. I'm determined to see a strong, badass, female vocal and guitar cover of Rise Against on youtube, so I'm buckling down and learning the chord progressions.

But this one. This one just breaks my heart. Gaza and Israel's conflict is all over the news. I understand war, even if I don't like it. I come from a military family, watched my little brother enter the Marines, see the family troops band together to create, but have heard my dad's horror stories from Vietnam. Rise Against are brilliant songwriters and musicians. Listen to it all the way through, or look up the lyrics.

And then listen to this and remember that a song can make you want to dance and also have a theme and great lyrics. That sometimes music can say everything you want to say but trap inside.

26 Pinky Promise

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to

I made a girl pinky promise to do her English homework the other night, but I wasn't promising anything.

I promised someone that we'd die together. I think I was eight or nine at the time, and I couldn't imagine living alone. A car accident, we decided, so that we couldn't grow old and die in a hospital room that smelled like bleach and hurt our ears with high pitched machines humming.

I pinky swore to my childhood best friend that we'd be best friends forever. I promised Ladybug we'd never lie to each other. I pinky promised my grandfather that if he stopped smoking I'd clean up the shop, every day. She moved away, I've never outright told Ladybug I'm gay (I'm terrified), and my grandfather quit smoking for the rest of his life but I only kept my promise for a few months.

I think I do better when I don't involve pinkies.

Day 25 Paine

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times

Washington Crossing the Delaware

I can't read that without hearing, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," which then brings me to Thomas Paine's famous quote, "These are the times that try men's souls."  Here comes the rant.

Look, there are millions, if not billions, of people who are going through the worst of times. People on the east coast are trying to recover from Sandy, as well as the people in Haiti. Gaza and Israel are attacking each other again. Winter is setting in and freezing the far north. People around the world are homeless, people are sick, people are without clean water, without ample food.

So, I'm not going to talk about my aunt's weird emotional breakdown or my grandma facing my grandfather's birthday and the anniversary of her daughter's death all in one month, or my best friend trying to recover from surgery and feeling isolated from the world. Instead I want us to think about the world and what we're doing to help or hurt. A whole bunch of idiots are signing petitions to try and secede their states from the US. Our country is divided and we need to bridge the gap. This is not the time to rub noses in the dirt, or to withdraw and lick wounds and find a way to avoid those who "won." There was no winning or losing. There were two paths as to how the US was going to travel into the future, and the residents of our nation picked the trail we will traverse, together. Step up and find a way to make it all work. Bipartisanship.

Also from Thomas Paine's The Crisis, "America did not, nor does not want force; but she wanted a proper application of that force. Wisdom is not the purchase of a day, and it is no wonder that we should err at the first setting off."  It's been over two hundred years since those words were penned, and while our country is still in its infancy compared to the ancient nations of the world, we should have learned more than this. This is pride and humiliation sabotaging the efforts to build a greater country. Our nation made a choice. You've had your tantrums, now stand up and be productive.

Intelligence

I've never associated higher education with intelligence. I think that with the internet, libraries, public and mass access to information, this is more true than ever.

My family never placed much importance on education. My siblings and I were told to do well, but if we didn't, there was no punishment. During junior high I had 32 missing homework assignments for one class but an A+ on every test. I skipped school and didn't do my work (it was boring and I had better things to do) but I still tested better and engaged in classroom discussion more than most of my classmates. Perspective - when I was 3 my favorite word was Alstroemeria, granted, it was my favorite flower.

Alstroemeria varies in color, but all have a spotted pattern

My siblings and their spouses all went to some college/junior college/trade school/etc, and the same with my parents, but none have a bachelors. My grandmother left college to marry my grandfather, who dropped out of high school to join the military at 16. Some of my extended family have 4 year degrees or beyond - one of my relatives has an MA is a mumblemumble in MO. (political relatives - who willingly admits that?) But I don't think of them as any more intelligent than my little familial hub.

I've always thought that learning is more about what you soak in from the world around you. How much attention you pay to your environment, to the people around you, to the news. When I took psychology I felt like they were trying to teach me things I'd already learned just from observing life around me. I feel like after the fundamental lessons, classes don't make people smarter, open minds make people smarter.

If you don't know what type of rock that is, look it up. If you don't understand what the central nervous system does, you can search the internet. If you are confused about the Russian Revolution and the mystery surrounding Anastasia (which is now not all that mysterious), there are encyclopedias and history books which can help you out with that.

Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna

 

 

 I look at her and want to cry because it's not like the Don Bluth movie.

She was so young and beautiful and innocent. Coincidentally, she looks like my grandma.

A curious mind can learn infinitely, beyond the textbooks and classroom doors, the college years and professors. But an ignorant mind can go to school for ages and not learn anything. 

Or maybe I just think that to make myself feel better because I never went back to finish my four year. School and I have never mixed well and probably never will. The joy and love I experience writing for myself is equal to how much I hate writing papers/assignments.

Day 24 Memories

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory

This Taco Bell cup is half the size of my little body

I have a lot of favorite memories. When Ladybug was three he ate ketchup with everything, and one day we were sitting on the floor eating McDonalds chicken nuggets and he smothered his in the red stuff before stuffing it in his mouth. As the older, wiser of the two, I suddenly began to doubt myself. What if I had been missing something amazing all along? What if it tasted really good? What if ketchup really did belong on everything? So I slammed my eyes shut, dunked a piece of chicken in the sweet paste and hesitantly bit off a piece. Yuck! It was the most disgusting thing I'd ever tasted! I threw the piece of half-eaten chicken at Ladybug, who proceeded to eat it, no questions asked. I love this kid with everything I am.

The first time I remember going to Disneyland I was nine (the first time I was 4) and we went to dinner at Goofy's Kitchen. It's a character dining experience where they come around and say hi, sign autographs and take pictures. Nowadays it's kind of lame, but back then it was just starting out and they didn't push the characters so fast. My favorite Disney movie was Aladdin at that time, and Aladdin came out and sat next to me for 25 minutes! We talked about everything. If he and Jasmine ever fought over the blankets, what the stars are like in Agrabah, what Abu would say if he could talk, if Genie ever gets annoying, if Jafar is scary in real life, if being a Sultan is hard work, if he and Jasmine would stay in love forever. He was so patient with me, never getting exasperated, telling me I would make a wonderful princess because I was beautiful, kind, and thoughtful, taking pictures with me, singing me happy birthday. No other character experience has ever lived up to the magic of that moment.

There's all the hilarious memories of my sister thinking she won the lotto (she didn't), my niece "cussing" at two teenage boys jaywalking (stupid apples!), my other niece at 4 years old, naked and walking around with her hands under her ribcage saying "Ribs! Ribs for dinner!" my brother's "oops, I forgot to tell you I have a kid," text several hours after first son was born. There's the crying memories of Ladybug becoming a Marine, of the Disneyland proposal on Christmas under fake snow and fireworks, of Ellie's wedding and seeing that huge, redneck side of the family again. Then we're back to hilarious, because there were four kegs at that wedding and they ran out of beer. Granted, his side of the family is Italian, but I'm sure our family took care of a huge portion. (Yes, kegs, at a wedding. It was also in a barn.)

Anyway, I've got lots of memories. I'd like to hear one of your favorite memories :)

Day 23 Kissing

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 23 — The last person you kissed

There are different levels of kissing. There's the kiss your best friend's mom gives you because you're being great to her baby girl. There's the kiss a child gives you because you just lit up their whole world. There's the kiss your girlfriend gives you and you feel like you can't breathe because your mind is running so fast and you're feeling all the feelings. And there's the kiss that makes your heart click into your chest because you're in love and you've never felt so whole.

My best friend's mom kissed me goodbye when I was visiting them during election week, a nice motherly smack on the cheek which filled me with a warm tenderness. A small child refused to let go of me at work today, as she does every day, because her time with me is considered precious to her. I treat her with kindness, compassion, and respect and give her upset feelings the same consideration I would give an adult's instead of writing them off as a tantrum. Lots of hugs and occasional cheek kisses from that little one.

The redhead and I broke up a while back, so it's been some time since I've had a really great, passionate, all the feelings, kiss. I miss those. I love those. I love the adrenaline, the affection, the happiness, and the heart pounding and the swelling chest and the mile a minute thoughts and the pulse throbbing through my fingertips.

It's been longer since I've had an "oh, this is what it feels like to have my heart stop bleeding because the other half is finally back in my chest" type of kiss. The kind of kiss that can be so simple, so sweet, but so electric, so absolutely against every law of physics and biomechanics that it bends the universe to the lips of two people.

Thank goodness I've got my dreams, or I'd go crazy. I guess if all else fails I can just sit outside a Domino's Pizza and write erotica ;)  Did you miss that tweet? Don't worry, it was nothing special. :D

Update: She appeared again last night - the girl I don't know. But this felt more like an early dating phase in our relationship. We were biking down a trail near a large river, filled with people. We stopped to take in the view and she hugged me to her, my head on her chest as she stroked my hair and I traced my thumbs over the skin above her waistband. It was the happiest, the calmest I'd felt in a long time.

A sweet moment, soon interrupted by threats and grumbles from those around us. Uncomfortable and a little afraid, we began to walk until we came upon a precipice with the river far below, and on the other bank a Tegan and Sara concert was starting up. Happy to find an ally, we shouted their names until they noticed us and turned a spotlight on us.

They decided to play a game for our freedom, and two of their stagehands brought us microphones, declaring that we would sing two songs. Thinking they would be Tegan and Sara songs, we agreed, and she started first. It was an old song, and they had changed all the lyrics to make it funnier, but she stuck to the original (something about a "corvette built for two" and "how I love my boyfriend" that she sang to me and made me giggle). I could tell they were displeased. My alarm went off before we ever got to my song. It was a roller coaster of a dream, but all the ones with her in it leave a lingering happy feeling.

Day 22 Hearts on Platters

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to

Yikes, um, I'm a pretty decisive person when it comes to people. If I want to give someone a second chance, I already have, and if I don't - I haven't. If I change my mind and want to give them a second chance, I will, on the spot, no real thinking about it necessary.

I tend to give my heart away on a platter. If people want to use it, cherish it, destroy it, whatever, I've given it away and that's their prerogative.  I give people that choice, but I don't exactly background check the people I give it to. I don't go around making sure the people I meet are good people before I decide if I like them or not. I meet you, I like you, bam! we're friends. Or I meet you, I don't like you and bam! we're not friends.

Anything else and it takes me a lot longer. Ask me what I want for dinner and it'll take half an hour to decide. But people - that only takes half a second. It's a big flaw, I know, but it's a hard habit to drop when I've been doing it since I was 18 months old.

Day 21 Impressions

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression

I'm not really one to judge on skin color, clothing style, piercings, or appearance in general. Looks can be decieving.

However, when I toured my college campus, I met another boy who was planning on attending. He was a few years older than me, short, stocky, beady eyes, with facial hair groomed intricately. I hadn't spoken with him but was so afraid of him. He had this weird vibe that just screamed "I'm going to rape you" and made me want to hide from him. Eventually, I discussed my uneasy feelings with another guy I had bonded with instantly, who laughed at me.

"What?! Cal? He's gay! Like, so gay!" Oh man, I was embarrassed. This guy I had percieved as a total threat was actually harmless. "I'll introduce you," my new friend proposed.

"Cal, this is Tabby."

"Oh, hey girl! We were in the same group this morning, right? I recognize you. I said my favorite song was Halo, by Beyonce. What was yours?"

"Um, I don't remember. I was nervous. Beyonce is good, though."

"Right? I love her music. Do you listen to Lenka? She's kind of quirky but I like it." He chattered on and made me feel totally at ease. He's definitely not a one trick pony (a stereotype) but he did go on to become one of my best friends. He's one of the nicest people on earth, loves to laugh, enjoys Disneyland as much as I do, worries about his family, is always down for pancakes, is never two faced, sings like no one's listening and dances like he's only got today left.

I'm so glad Omar introduced us, or I never would have gotten to know and become great friends with Cal. He's the person I've been most wrong about, the complete opposite of the vibe he was casting. I still follow my intuition a lot because it's gotten me out of a lot of scrapes, but I've learned it's not everything.

First:girl Part 1

The day was sweaty, the room filled with estrogen, and gossip was a tangible, sticky humidity that clung to the skin. The summer sun poured in through the windows, and dust motes sparkled like a swirling cloud of yellow glitter.

A group of people walked into the far room, and the women around me peered at the fresh meat. Two tall boys, one pierced and dangerous, the other clean cut and a little dorky. With them was an amazon woman with long, flowing hair, and shorter than all of the others by at least a foot, was the person who caught my attention.

She was wearing beige plaid shorts that hit at the knee, black converse with holes in the sides, a gray short sleeved t-shirt, and had hair cropped short to the scalp with a fringe of bangs over her big amber colored eyes. When she looked up and grinned, her teeth were slightly crooked, giving a playful appearance.

I swear, I wanted her in that one moment. My pulse throbbed through me and my thoughts were nonexistent. My brain was too full of her. I was halfway out of my seat when one of the other girls pulled me back to reality with a touch on the arm and an accusing, "Where are you going?"

I slowly lowered myself into my seat, my heart pounding fiercely in my chest. I didn't want to let her out of my sight. I craved her presence, wanted to shake her hand merely for an excuse to touch her skin. I knew if she left and I never saw her again, there would never be another as wonderful as her. It was crazy, I didn't even know her! Hadn't heard her voice or learned her name!

But the group walked out of the room, and my heart sank to my feet. Losing all casual pretense, I got out of my chair and walked briskly to my manager. "Who were they?" I tried to sound nonchalant, but I'm sure my voice betrayed me.

"They are the new trainees. They will be working here starting next week," she answered me.

Thank God! I went back to my work station feeling dizzy. I sat down and thought about what next week would bring. I would find a reason to talk to her. Her preference didn't matter, who she had dated, who she was dating- I would charm her, woo her, romance her, and make her mine.

I dreamed of her every night for a week. I started work the next week hoping that we had been put on the same shift. It was a hectic day, and I quickly lost myself in the hustle and bustle of my work until I saw her in the hallway. I must have looked like a hot mess, because she was grinning at me in that way that suggested she had been watching me and was thoroughly amused by my actions. I pulled myself out of my crouched position and blew a piece of hair out of my face.

"Hi, I'm Tabby," I think I managed a grin as I held out my hand, and I knew my eyes were sparkling way too brightly to seem as if I was uninterested.

"Hey, I'm [first:girl]. I work in [a different department.]" She grinned in a cocky way and took my hand. She had the softest skin and her voice was slow and smooth. My heart was pounding in my throat and I felt a little high.

"Nice to meet you," oh my God, I was grinning like a fool. "Are you working [my shift]?" Her grin broadened and I swear she could see right through me.

"Yeah, I am. I'm really excited about it. I've signed on for the next year." (We were working on a contract basis.) She sounded so cool, why couldn't I be as cool as she was instead of a blundering idiot? I finally realized I'd been holding onto her hand for way too long and let go, taking in a breath as I told my heart to calm down.

"I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other." Finally, something came out with a half grin and a somewhat languid inflection.

"I guess. See you around, Tabby." She turned and walked away to do her job, but I swear she was laughing at how obviously attracted I was to her.

I turned back to the hectic mess which was my job, crouching back down to the floor, but not really paying attention. My every thought was focused on her: the next time I'd see her, the next thing she'd say. There was no embarrassment at my actions, no shame at throwing myself at her, no questioning of my sexuality (which I had considered myself to be fairly straight only several days before.)

You have to understand that at this point, in my frame of mind, she was not a woman. She was not a taboo, and I was not a "lesbian." She defied labels of every sort. My sexuality never crossed my mind once as I focused on the task of getting first:girl to like me.

I'm posting all parts of my first:girl story over at tabbyqt.wordpress.com 
They are password protected, but just tweet me @tabbyqt or email me at tabbyqt@hotmail.com and I'll send you the password, no questions asked. 

Day 20 Heartbreak

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest

Sorry, guys, you know what this is going to be. I think it's about time you got the back story on first:girl. It's going to read kind of like a story, so, this should be fun. Because isn't heartbreak always?

Okay, going back into this, years ago, you need to know who I was.

You have to understand, going back in time, that I had questioned my sexuality for years but was only just beginning to act on it.  No one had ever expected me to be anything other than very straight, and very young. While I was smart, my social sense was underdeveloped. I was a social butterfly who didn't understand the games people played, a naive girl who believed in rainbows and acceptance and "true love conquers all."  I had just gone through a very confusing year, and the start to my summer hadn't exactly gone as planned (see Awakening) when I was totally rejected the first time I asked a girl on a date.

The second half of my summer started to look up when I got hit with a bolt of lightning at work one day.   

She was absolutely everything I ever wanted but never knew I could have.

I'm posting all parts of my first:girl story over at tabbyqt.wordpress.com 
They are password protected, but just tweet me @tabbyqt or email me at tabbyqt@hotmail.com and I'll send you the password, no questions asked.

Day 19 Family

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad

I'm going to ignore the word "pester" because it has a negative connotation and declares the "good or bad" irrelevant.

My family has been on my mind recently. My very vast, extensive family, and whenever I talk about them people always ask "Are you Mormon?" No, friends, my family is not Mormon - they're Catholics and Mennonites. If you're not real knowledgeable on the Christian scene, you'd say they are pretty much the same thing. They're not, but they do like to have lots of kids.

My family has had strange encounters with Christianity - my uncle was studying to be priest but left and refuses to go to church or talk about the faith, and my aunt used to be a nun, but is now married with lots of grandchildren and is still involved in her local church. When I came out, I had some people react well and some react poorly. A distant aunt or second cousin or something is also gay, but she was disowned, though I still get a Christmas letter from her and her partner.

Lately I've been having dreams of my extended family in the forms of videotapes. Like, I'm watching a home movie (that I've never seen in waking life) with scenes of me as a baby surrounded by this huge family, all laughing and talking and drinking and playing The Beatles and Johnny Cash on guitar. It's this din of tons of voices all mixing together, bottles clinking and children giggling, and the sleepy look everyone gets when a few guys take center stage, and their melodious voices and strings of angels lull the children into golden slumber on the notes of Gordon Lightfoot.

I think I miss them, I know I miss them, and the joy of being immersed in so many people. You don't have to talk much when 70 people all have something to say. You can just relax and enjoy it, feel the embrace of all these people who accept you, no matter what. We're not all blood, but we're all family, and the feeling of being connected to all of them, of standing in a room full of people and seeing a glowing thread from your heart to the hearts all around you, is so rare, something to be cherished.

Sometimes I talk too much, and I miss when I'm around them and can be silent.

Day 18 Better Me

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be

The person I wish I could be or the person I wish I would be? I wish I could be a professional volleyball player, but I'm super short, have a sports injury to one knee and didn't start playing volleyball until junior high. I also wish I could be a violinist, but I've never picked up a violin, can't afford one and I'm pretty sure you have to start before you are five.

But the person I wish I would be, that's totally different. I wish I was more passionate and pushed myself to do the things I enjoy as a career. Whether it's singing, writing, theater, driving, photography, I think life would be easier if I truly loved what I do to earn to money for myself and my family. I wish I would be a better person, a more social person, a nicer person, a more forgiving and tolerant person.

I wish I would go to school to be a racecar driver because I would be really good at that.

These are all things I can change about myself. These are all things I can push myself to be if I really want to, if I have the motivation. But when I work 14-20 hour days and I'm exhausted when I come home and tired when I wake up, I just don't have the time or energy. I guess I could stop writing, but then I would just go crazy, and nobody wants that :)

Rainbow Sprinkles

So, this whole 30 Day Challenge thing has kind of been a drag. There are fun moments too, but being introverted is not really my thing, which means that I've been doing a lot of writing on the side to keep me sane. I love to write short stories or scenes that could really fit in anywhere, just snippets of daily life in the LGBT culture, and I wanted to share them.

Rainbow Sprinkles to the rescue! It's a light dash of LGBT life when you want a fictional story that will make you laugh, steam you up, fall in love, make you realize that you fight with your girlfriend like that every day, or just want to take some time out of your own life and live in another world for a few minutes.

Enjoy!

Tabby

Ladybug Update

I finally got an update from Ladybug (backstory: cousin I grew up with as my little brother). He's got some time off for the Christmas holiday, but I'm not going to be able to see him because I'm working. There's family driving down, and I want to join them, so badly, but it's the most critical time of the year and I can't just take time off.

I keep thinking about the world ending on the 21st. I've never believed in it, never been huge on prophecies, but what if it does and my last choice was to choose work over family? Over seeing the person I'm closest to? That thought terrifies me. Plus, if the world is ending, I want that badass kid by my side because I know we'd make a great team and be survivors.

He's changed so much over the last few months, somehow even taller. He seems to have grown into his dress uniform, so he looks more like a true Marine than a kid playing dress up :) He's grown quite handsome and I know I'm going to have to beat people off of him and make sure whoever gets him deserves him. I wish I could post one of the pictures I've gotten, as he carries this James Dean vibe I can't describe to you unless you see it, but I'm not going to out him on my blog. Main point is, he's safe and I'm so happy for that.

He's having fun with friends, but being responsible, and enjoying the stuff he's working on. I'm glad I know what's going on with him, but I still miss him. Hopefully he can get some time off in the spring and I'll get to see him.

Day 17 Childhood

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 17 — Someone from your childhood

I feel like all I do is talk about my childhood. You've heard about my childhood friends, about Ladybug, even briefly about the giant, mean kid down the street who used to beat me up. I spent a fair amount of my formative years crying before I learned that if he chucked a hammer at me I could throw it back and it would hurt him just as bad.

Cul-de-sac

 I grew up on a cul-de-sac, a street which was closed off from everything and provided lots of space to play. Six of the houses on my street all had kids within a few years of my own age, so we grew up together in big backyards and long summer days. Because it was a safe, rural neighborhood, our parents gave us free reign, and we left to play in the river or ride our bikes several miles into the mountains or venture into town without any pesky questions. Think little rascals, to a point, though we didn't get in trouble much. When someone got hurt, we'd break an ice plant stalk in half and rub it on like Bactine. Was it a good idea? Probably not, but everyone learned how to soldier on.

When the days grew long, we ate dinner outside in the street and told ghost stories in the twilight. We played Kick the Can and Ghost in the Graveyard in the darkness. And then, when we got exhausted, we would pull out our sleeping bags and lawn chairs and set up camp in the road and watch for shooting stars in the clear, crisp sky and awake with dew on our faces. Or we'd awake in our beds, if it got particularly cold and our parents came to get us.

Once in a while the coyotes or mountain lions would come around out of curiosity, and we would all freak out. Coyotes are better, louder from further away, so we could scream and run into the nearest person's house and they get more scared of us than we are of them. No one ever got bit by either animal.

Milky Way from Mount Pinos - not my small mountain, but a similar view.

The one thing I love about living in a small town is the lack of light pollution. There's a camp at the top of one of our small mountains, and when you stand at the top, you can see in every direction. You can see the rolling hills continue for miles, or over another mountain range, or all the way to the ocean and the end of the earth. At night, more stars than you could have ever imagined blaze in the dark. The meteor showers here are spectacular, and as fire streaks across the sky, you can almost reach out your hand to touch it.

I think that's what I miss most.

Day 16 Driving Lessons

30 Day Letter Challenge
Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country

This one is boring and vague so I'm boycotting. I know I'm technically off by one day, but I'll try to post later "today" to make it up. The reason I'm off is because I went to go visit the BFF! The drive takes many hours (as all drives do in California) which prompted the real idea for this post.

How to Drive Like a Californian - a humorous but not entirely advisable take from an actual Californian's point of view.
I take no responsibility for anyone who actually follows this post as real driving guidelines.

1. Whatever the speed limit is on a freeway, that's not what you're supposed to be going. The courtesy is 4-8 miles over. Any more than that and you're dangerous and attract attention, any less than that and you're holding the rest of us up, babe.

2. Right turn on red. If you sit there through an entire red light and you have an opening to turn and don't take it, someone behind you will honk and it will scare the hell out of you and you will spill coffee all over your nice shirt and your day will suck. If you get this rule down, CA drivers will love you.

3. Some of our more rural freeways and roads require you to play chicken with oncoming traffic in order to pass. This is legal only when the center line is dotted. I'm very good at this game - the goal is to pass the car in front of you without crashing. Play it safe.

4. Don't buy a jeep. People in jeeps can't remember how to get out of the fast lane when they are going slower than the person coming up behind them. Remember how to get out of the fast lane when other people are faster than you. The fast lane is the left one.

5. If you're having a time accelerating to the appropriate 77 mph on a 70 mph freeway, turn off the overdrive on your automatic transmission vehicle. If you're in a manual, learn how to drive stick better.

6. When a cop pulls out behind you, do not go five-ten miles under the speed limit. You will just piss the nice copper off, bottleneck traffic, and then get pulled over and questioned for being old/stoned/illegal. You don't want any of that.

7. Ask people nicely, aloud, to move out of your way and they probably will. If they don't, then it's okay to mutter bad things. But remember, if you start with negative carma, the only person negatively affected is you.

8. If it rains, freak out like the world is ending. Once you can do this you will be a true California driver. 

:)

Day 15 Missing

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 15 — The person you miss the most

If I'm going to be honest with you, really honest, it's hard not to make it all come back to first:girl. I think until I fall in love she's the only romantic trauma I've got. She's the only relationship I delved into headfirst and didn't want to come up for air. I have no other experience with that intensity to compare it with, so who else am I supposed to miss?

My best friends? My dead relatives? The brothers I see once a year or the sister I see once every 2 or 3? How can I miss them more than I miss being in love with her? How can they compare to feeling complete? How can you possibly miss something more than the ache of being touched all the time in the smallest of ways?

Hours. The longest I went without a gentle caress, a steadying hand, a reassuring palm to the small of my back - might have been a few hours. Now it's days, or weeks. Weeks without a loving touch, a gentle kiss of fingers against my cheek. The lack of touch could make anyone wither, could make anyone go insane with wanting, with missing.

I try not to think about it. I can stand on my own two feet. I can wait for the right person. I'm not desperate or fragile or crazy enough to beg like a kitten arching between someone's feet for affection. I want feelings first.

But I miss all the touches.



Just as an update because I've gotten an influx of comments and emails about my ex from Day 7: I don't want that ex back; I know I talk about her a lot but I don't want first:girl back. I miss things about my relationships with each of them, sure, but because those are happy memories. Relationships end for a reason, and each has given me an opportunity to learn, grow, and become a better person. So, when you ask me what I'm going to do to get her back -

Nothing. My past relationships aren't right for who I am now. And if you're trying to get someone back, maybe you need to look at how the two of you have changed and see if you can still forge that connection and be what the other wants and needs.

Visits

As you may know, I've been visiting with my best friend who is very liberal, socially progressive, tolerant - the first person who told me it was okay when I came out. And she's not voting Obama. In fact, she's not voting at all.

I already voted and I believe it's a secret ballot and I'm not going to tell you in detail what I did and didn't vote for, but it's pretty obvious I'm pro-Obama and at the very least anti-Romney and completely terrified of what will happen if he becomes the president. So, urging people to vote on the candidate of their choice has been fairly important to me. I never talked to her about it, never pushed her because she is so smart and I just assumed it was a no brainer. Of course if you're an informed citizen you would vote, right?

Apparently, wrong. It's hard for me to comprehend. Especially since so many of the people I follow on twitter are zealous about voting and knowing the issues. Social media caused me to be very well informed as I cast my ballot this year. I just can't believe that bright, informed people in demographics where rights and privileges are at stake would sit this one out.

Day 14 Drifting

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from

When I was two years old, my best friend moved into the house next door. She was the coolest kid around. She would beat up the mean boy down the street for me. We would sled down the muddy hill, watch Xena and Hercules after school (you know, with Lucy Lawless and Kevin Sorbo), spend all day in the back room with jolly ranchers and a Tremors marathon (so many Kevin Bacon jokes), or start up our own Jedi training academy.

She had a little sister too, and she's who I would play barbies or dress up with, but most of the time I was outside rock climbing with my best friend. We lived right next to the river, and would swim for miles up or down stream.

Anyway, she was a badass. But two weeks after she graduated from high school, she eloped and moved away. Not that I really minded, I mean, it sucked that she never told me what was going on or included me in the whole shebang, but she was always a private person when it came to feelings, so I wasn't really that hurt. Even so, I still had two more years of high school to go, so while she moved on and away, I was stuck doing the same old thing, except without her.

We talk online sometimes, send each other cards. I see pictures of her kids occasionally, but I've never met them. I thought I was going to be more involved in her life, but now I hardly know anything about the person she's become. If she ever needs me, I'm there. Until then, we're just drifting.

Disasters

This post has been in my head for days, but I haven't been able to piece it together. The only reason I can do so now is because I'm a procrastinator and avoiding something else.

When something like Sandy hits on the opposite side of the country, I feel useless. And it happens every few years, like with the Aurora massacre, Japan, Hurricane Katrina, the 2004 tsunami, 9/11 and the Oklahoma City bombings and all of these horrible things that happen in other places where I'm not and can't help.

I mean, I do what I can, I donate and try to be active and informed but it never feels like enough. I'm never doing enough. I didn't go to Haiti to rebuild houses, and I wasn't in the search and rescue after the tsunami in Japan. I'm not a firefighter or an EMT and I want to do more than take five seconds to donate and then live my happy little life where I try to make kids succeed in school and bask in the sunshine as long as it lasts. I'm living the California dream and it's times like these, when my countrymen are starving, trying to rebuild, have gone without power or clean water, that my life feels so gross.

It's almost like survivor's guilt. But what else can you do when you're not supposed to donate items; when you live on the other side of the world? I can't just pack up my life every time a disaster strikes, although I'd like to.

How do you help? How can I?

Day 13 Forgiveness

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you

I guess we're back to midnight posts. Who the hell came up with these? I feel like I'm in therapy.

Okay, so remember that roommate I was half in love with my first year of college? Right before the summer everything I knew came crashing down? I was a bitch to her. On her birthday. Not my finest moment.

She'd been chasing after this guy and I didn't want them to get together (I really liked her) so after a few rounds of some drinking game involving vodka, our close friend from out of town called and this really hilarious, loud, drunk guy put her on speakerphone. She was talking to everyone and saying happy birthday, and the guy my roommate was crushing on said something. That prompted loud drunk guy to introduce him as my roommate's new boyfriend as of the last few weeks.

I was drunk - I was hurt. It was her birthday, so I tried not to make a scene and let myself out the front door and walked around the block. I slid down the side of a car and began to cry. One of our friends, Mike - this really sweet, quiet guy, had followed me outside and sat down next to me.  I bawled, cursing my roommate, calling her horrible things because she hadn't even had the decency to tell me. She was sneaking around with him because she didn't trust me, didn't consider me a friend. The ultimate betrayal.

Yeah, I can over dramatic when I'm trashed.

Anyway, she had followed me out to apologize and heard all the awful things I said about her on her birthday, so when I tried to make amends she was having none of it. We've never spoken again.

She's getting married now, to some other guy. I'm sad that I lost a great friend over something so idiotic. I wish I would've kept my mouth shut. I wish she could forgive me.

Day 12 Sunshine

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain

I don't really hate anyone. When I'm in pain it's a momentary thing. It hurts and then I learn from it, I grow, I become a better or worse person and how it changes me is up to me, and only me.

It's hard to be negative, to think about the past and people who have caused me pain, when my day is so bright. When my sheets remind me of a tropical, white sand beach; when the sun shines through my window and the aqua color is reflected in muted patterns on my walls. When I am warm under the rays of the sun, and it erases the chill lingering in my toes and seeps heat into my bones. When I can lay on the concrete and feel the rough, hot surface beneath my cheek.

I love days when I don't have to work :) and I get to see the best friend. Can't tell you how excited I am for this!

Also, have you voted? Go! Do!

Day 11 Grief

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to

I'm not going to write a letter. This is about remembering, connecting, and seeing the world as something bigger than yourself or myself. When you’re born into a large family, like I was, death is not uncommon. I’ve attended more funerals than I can count. But two hit me particularly hard – my brother-in-law when I was 14, and my grandfather when I was 18. Both were accidents. 

I wasn’t allowed to go to T’s funeral. We didn’t have enough money for me to fly back east, since both of my parents were going to support my sister. I understand the fiscal reasons, but as a fourteen year old girl my feelings were bruised. They left for 12 days and I stayed with my grandparents on a very cold air mattress wondering what his body looked like. He used to let me braid his rat-tail. He wasn’t exactly the greatest person in the world, but for some reason he had a sweet spot for me.

When my grandpa died it was sudden, unexpected and harsh. We had been very close, had a very good relationship, and he was practically a dad to Ladybug. So, when Ladybug and I were dragged into the court case surrounding his death it was a little too much for both of us to handle. Luckily, neither of us spiraled into drugs, but it took me more than a year before I visited his grave. It was shortly after this that I came out and as for Ladybug, he joined the Marines. To each their own therapy, I suppose. 

Grief is a funny thing; sometimes you think you’re done and then it sneaks up on you out of nowhere and slams you in the gut. Or sometimes you can be in the middle of it, and suddenly be blessed with an ordinary day where you don’t think about any of it and don’t realize it until later. Grieving is a journey, and when you can finally mention that person again without crying, you start to understand that life moves forward. 

Since my grandfather died, my brothers and sisters have given birth to four children with one more on the way. I can’t stop my whole life to grieve for one person, or I would fail to interact with and love all these new people. And I wouldn’t miss out on them for anything.

Good Lookin' Wednesday

Have you ever seen the movie House Bunny? If you haven't, you should make a point to. It has some of my favorite actresses, including Anna Faris, Emma Stone, Kat Dennings, and a hysterically funny ensemble.

Anyway, there's a speech Anna Faris gives (spoiler) about how she is allergic to Azithromycin. She takes it anyway because the allergic reaction makes her flushed and beautiful and there's a whole lot more that proves a point in the movie.

Anyway, all day yesterday I felt awful because of my spider bite. But, despite the bone and muscle pain, my skin was glowingly fabulous. The swollen, puffy effect was beautiful, like botox! I've never thought about plastic surgery or injections before, but the effect was amazing. I didn't look tired or sad or stressed, I just looked happy and well.

Would I ever surgically enhance myself? I don't know :/ It seems like a lot of work and pain and recovery for not that much improvement. I'm not really big on pain and needles and surgery.

But at least I looked pretty on Halloween.

Day 10 Friends

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to

This is farther than I got last time, so go me!

Dear Adam,

I miss you. That might be my most honest sentence in this whole letter. It used to be that you needed me, or I needed you, and that need kept us close. But now you're engaged (congrats! I love her! Can I just take a minute to boast that if I hadn't made you fully aware of how much whats-her-face sucked you never would have met your beautiful, amazing, talented future wife? Chalk one up for me) and I'm doing well, and we don't need to talk like we used to, so we don't.

It's interesting that in all the years we've been friends, we've never gone out for pizza, or hung out at your house or mine, or gone to the movies. We don't spend time together unless we're ducking out of a religious activity, out walking or sitting at some park talking about our issues! You have to realize how weird that is, right?

Anyway, I've known you my whole life and just because our lives don't suck anymore (relatively) doesn't mean I want you to exit stage left. Who else is going to help me find the little dipper? Who else would talk me out of dying my hair yellow? You're important and I like having you around. Plus, my life is going to suck eventually and no one knows me better or can get me to talk better than you do (including best friend from Day 1 with whom I have a hard time communicating). You make me say what I feel. You don't assume and let things slide and let me avoid and I love that about our friendship.

Thanks for being there,

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